


The Night Shift: Ford's Journals

by Ginclevertitle93



Series: The Night Shift [6]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Comfort, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Guilt, Gunshot Wounds, Healing, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, POV First Person, Protective Siblings, Protectiveness, Self-Hatred, Siblings, Transformation, Werewolf, Werewolf Dipper Pines, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolf Stan Pines, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25600087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginclevertitle93/pseuds/Ginclevertitle93
Summary: Ford struggles with defending the town from werewolves...While also protecting and living with two suffering from the curse.Two who just happen to be his Twin Brother and Great Nephew.A collection of Ford's journal's entries during the course of the Night Shift, during certain particular nights.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Series: The Night Shift [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1016412
Kudos: 27





	1. The Hunters

I feel the air grow colder, they could be anywhere, every snapped twig and a crumpling leaf kept me on the edge, these beasts are cunning, they will not hold back once they have you in its claws.

This is Stanford Pines again, for the last few nights I have been tracking the beasts that roam the woods, hopefully they stay within the woods. Luckily that’s how it’s been going for us…well me. I’ve become some sort of a lead organizer to track werewolves, being the closest to an expert, next to those young vagabonds. I have been studying the unusual things that have been happening to this usually unusual town (what a mouthful!). The native weirdness of this town is being harassed by the non-native werewolves (invasive weirdness? That feels like a good term to use.) And now they’re starting to go after the residents of Gravity Falls, as in the humans mind you.

The injuries on the unicorns and Manotaurs are piling up. The gnomes are still being used as chew toys and they’re getting more pushed out because of it. F has quite the full house now; he doesn’t seem to mind having the injured stay there.

The werewolves haven’t bitten anyone since those young adult hunters arrived, but what makes them not want to bite some yet do it to others?

Playing the role of an organizer is draining to say, my social anxiety has been well past its limit! I can’t let this town do something idiotic, that might get someone killed. Thankfully the majority seemed rather level headed for the most part about the problem.

Considering what else we live with, they’re desensitized to crazy stuff like this. My words to consider, some of them might be victims of the werewolf curse and might not even mean harm.

These words seem to stick with most of the locals.

I gave two important rules.

One: Only shoot if they attack.

Two: If someone is discovered to be a werewolf, tend to them and question.

They seem to understand these rules.

But they’re still wary of those cursed betraying them or turning on them; they still don’t completely understand how these werewolves and the curse works. Neither do I despite the extra knowledge I’ve attained.

Their fear and anger is still more understandable and sympathetic compared to those outsider hunters. The people of Gravity Falls can be reasoned with, most of them.

Preston is not one of them, and this was predictable, not surprising at all. Man only has his sights on ego and money; he’s treating this whole situation like it’s a game. He sees those werewolves as easy money, he doesn’t care who they might be. This man even admitted to me he doesn’t care if he shoots someone innocent, “It’s their fault they allowed themselves to get infected in the first place.” Like they had a choice!

About those werewolf hunters are…interesting, actually emotionless and annoying is a better way to describe them. I don’t really trust them; they don’t share a lot about themselves other than they’ve hunted werewolves for years and the recent chaos here made them curious. I have many questions for them like what brought them together to form a group and how they managed to do hunting like this for years. They don’t give me helpful answers; they seem to believe they’re doing the right thing by preventing out breaks and attacks. They’re not entirely selfish as they are concerned about the town’s well-being and see each other as family. But they’re so reckless and inconsiderate I’m not even sure if it’s entirely true or if they’re all talk. They’re so robotic I can’t even tell what their true feelings on the matter are.

I hired them and now I feel like I’m babysitting them than receiving help!

They’re slowly taking a liking to Northwest. I think they’re just impressed by his shooting skills and coldness!

They wonder why I’m so soft to these creatures, though I would hardly call myself soft. I’m just as furious with them for what they’ve done to my family; but the complexity of the curse leaves me cautious of the decisions I make.

I’ve seen both sides of the werewolf, the ones in the woods are cruel and savage, strong beasts. They attack without a second thought and are determined to horribly injure and kill others, no one has been killed yet but I fear they might if we’re not careful. They seem to hide within the woods even when returned to human form.

I do believe some aren’t malicious but the curse compels them to, if possible I would like to help them.

And the other two in my own home…Dipper and Stanley…my great nephew and my own brother.

Both kind and rather careful around those who know their secret (not entirely true for Stan but that’s him in general). They still behave the same, granted with some limitations due to the curse altering their bodies.

I wonder, does the werewolf curse normally reveal a person’s true colors? I don’t mean the out of control state but when they’re themselves. What I mean to say is; the person is stripped of their identity, unable to speak to other humans, trapped in the form of a dangerous animal that could hurt others if not careful. They still desire the affection of friends and family yet fear the loss of control, the curse leaves them vulnerable emotionally. All they want is for us to be safe as well.

They both act more self-aware, and both mentioned they dislike being isolated.

If granted with the werewolf curse, a curse capable of destruction, does it test ones character to see if they’ll act like savage animals or timid wolves in their controlled state?

Either way, I’m confident that those two are gentle werewolves and their true qualities shine better in their cursed forms.

I’ve seen Dipper talk to his sister, read, even curl up to her as she sleeps, sometimes I even find him looking at me inside my room then sitting next to me, curious of my studies. He’s very affectionate with his sister and the others. He always shares his thoughts with me through Mabel as well, I can’t understand his wolf speech and he’s frustrated with that fact so sometimes he writes in his own journal or waits until he’s human to share some personal thoughts. Mabel made something called a Scrapnal (I’m very concerned with the name she chose.) In which her, Dipper (even in wolf form) and the other two document their experiences with the werewolf curse. It’s filled with photos and entries, she likes those two being werewolves to some extent; she always cuddling her wolf twin like a pillow!

Funny enough, due to her strange ability to understand them, she’s become a helpful expert for me on how it’s like to interact with werewolves for the non-cursed and claims she’s become some sort of “Werewolf Therapist” for them.

Stan is extremely protective of us as well and on some nights, I’ve seen him cradle his great niece in his arms like his own child, even brushing back her hair and nuzzling her. He appears more human during this and at times I find myself forgetting they have become werewolves.

The pig surprisingly shows no fear around the werewolves living in the shack! Neither does the goat but the pig seems to enjoy being around them. He tends to sleep right next them, curled up and lying against their fur or biting their ears and trying to play. Stan seems irritated by it but Dipper does join in on occasions. The pig isn’t clueless however, he shows fear when the werewolves outside begin to howl. But the pig decides these two werewolves will protect them, he was attacked by Dipper once and yet still shows no fear around him.

I think he understands they mean no harm to him, he might just see them the same as when they’re human. A pig can understand them better than those men!

The longer I chase after these creatures, the more I begin to imagine, what if Dipper or Stanley were being hunted down like this? What will these men do to them, what will the town do? Treat them like monsters? Lock them up or hurt them? Take them somewhere far away? They’re not dangerous; will they be punished by simply being a victim of the curse?

The town might be furious I’m hiding my own secrets while acting in charge, but I’m only protecting them. They are capable of being dangerous, but they don’t want to hurt anyone and have done nothing wrong. Stan and Dipper are just as frightened and confused as everyone else; they still need the care and kindness as they have received when human.

Maybe this town understands that or will someday.

Do the other werewolves have a bigger plan?

What will I do if my brother and nephew are exposed?

I feel stuck in-between worlds, but I’ll manage somehow.

As long as they don’t hurt them, maybe soon I might be able to figure out this mess and free them from the curse.


	2. The Wounded Pup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford hears a gunshot...and his nephew is out there as a wolf tonight...

I can’t believe it…they actually…I can’t even bring myself to write it. They…

I had to give myself a moment, there’s so much blood, and he’s bleeding way too much for his size. I had to tend to my nephew’s wounds, those men were aiming to kill; I’ve managed to bring him to shelter in time, but even then, I’m not even sure if he’ll make through the night.

They had gone against my word, those kids…Preston…they shot the boy. Though he was not a boy at the time, they still shot a thirteen year old child. He was the smallest of the werewolves and it never crossed them he could be a young one. As much as I want to knock them out cold, doing so might reveal the wolf’s identity and endanger him more. I should have never let them out of my sight! Now my mistake could cost the own boy’s life.

I’ll explain myself, I still feel shaken to the core but I feel as if I must tell of the horrific events that unfolded tonight. The truth of what really happened.

On a werewolf investigation as I call it, Preston Northwest had shot one of them, I wasn’t paying attention as I was…distracted to say at least, I mistook the Multibear carrying Fiddleford in his jaws as a werewolf attack (Turns out F kept stepping into every bear trap in his path, he’s not in the least bit bothered or even injured by that and even cheerfully greeted me as the bear(s?) carried him like a puppy.)

I heard a gun go off not long after, it was deafening and the forest went silent, but what followed was the most chilling. I still remember that…that piercing pained scream of a wolf, two more shots rang out. I hurried back over to the group, I left them alone…and the boy, he was still out there. I was hoping it wasn’t him, I even told them specifically not to shoot for sport but only in defense; no sane man would shoot a young one…but I knew they weren’t those men.

I was a careless fool.

The wolf had already fled when I arrived; there was a puddle of its blood and a trail; a full grown one could survive that being the hardy beasts they were but…this one.

I had to carefully inquire of what it looked like as the wrong words might expose my connection.

The smallest werewolf they’ve seen, brown fur, in their words, and that it might be dying from its wounds at this point.

There wasn’t even the slightest concern nor remorse in their tones; Preston spoke proudly of his “finest shot”. They spoke of the boy as if he were a dangerous animal, sneaking up on them, savage…None of these were true about him, far from the truth and I felt anger they would speak of him that way. Preston took advantage of my disappearance to gain a wealthy prize; he was lying through his teeth, there were no signs of a struggle here, from what I gathered, they shot him while he was hiding from them!

But they did not know who the wolf truly was to my relief.

They were set on tracking down the animal, but I managed to convince them it would be better if I tracked it down. Saying that the whole pack would be after them and tear them to shreds out of fury for injuring one of their own, especially a smaller one.

They bought it.

The trail led from some distance from the scene of the crime, Mcgucket and the Multibear joined my tracking as they overheard the commotion, the bear mentioning he thought he heard a child scream.

I felt my stomach turn tracking the blood; I hoped the boy was safe and alive; he was losing quite a bit of blood. His trail came to an end by a creek, I feel panic seep into me as I dreaded he might discovered by another or swept away by the water in his weakened state.

However the Multibear informed me he could pick of the scent of a wet dog, a wolf. I noticed under the flow of the small waterfall was a small cavern, curious and desperate; I kneeled in the creek and looked behind the waterfall, which fogged up my glasses. It certainly made it a bit difficult to spot him at first.

I spotted a pair of glowing eyes, they locked on to me and I could pick up fear from the hidden figure, shining a light on it revealed the beasts’ identity, but it was a heartbreaking sight.

The boy was badly bleeding, stained in his own blood that not even the water could simply wash away, shivering and breathing in an exhausted form; his tail did not wag a bit, just clinging to his body tightly. I could not tear my eyes away, the boy was clearly in bad shape; humans did this to him. He was punished due to having a condition that he did not want nor had no fault in having.

And he looked so empty, betrayed and deathly afraid.

He snarled when I reached to him, I wasn’t sure if it was out of fear due to probably being too weak to properly see me or attempting to say something, so I softly informed him it was only me and I was answered with a whine, I hated to see him crawl over to me in such poor health.

The boy whimpered as he approached and came to a stop, he sniffed my hand and licked it to show understanding.

I couldn’t bear it, I pulled him out of there and wrapped him tightly in my coat, slowing the bleeding and giving him the comfort he desperately needed, cradling him in my arms, keeping him close to give him the feeling of safety. He yelped and whimpered from his injuries, twitching, his breathing was irregular; I stroked his body in an attempt to help him breathe.

The fur around his eyes were very damp, visibly in tears from his ordeal, I could not blame him, and told him it was alright to cry, I wonder if I was too, as after I confessed I believed my carelessness is the reason he is suffering from any of this, he licked my chin (still really weird to think about, but he is a wolf) and rubbed his snout against it. I wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to say; he did not blame me, or maybe he was forgiving me; but all in all, he was comforting me despite everything. I rubbed the back of his neck, still giving endless apologies. I did not know what else to say to him.

F sympathized and insisted to have a look at his wound, believing he could help him, Dipper growled but I know he did not mean to look ungrateful, he held rather still and cooperated well with F.

Fiddleford said that he had been shot once and thankfully did not hit anything vital, but he was still in danger of bleeding to death. He told me he needs to be treated to quickly, not that I needed to be told that, but he offered to give us a quick wound healing medicine he created from our findings during our quest for the cure. However he had it back at his own home which meant I must keep him stable till then.

The Multibear offered to act as a distraction knowing those men would be following instead of staying put; apparently he knew they wouldn’t shoot him. I should probably say this as well, the bear could hear Dipper’s words. Apparently, he had cried out my name several times, repeating how “they” shot him sorrowfully and asking what he did wrong, saying sorry and he didn’t want me to let go. Even saying he wanted to go home to be with everyone.

The translations wounded me deeply, the poor boy. Dipper if you make it to read this, I’m so sorry I let this happen to you.

I was careful as I ran through the woods, luck was on my side as no one spotted me, I kept the young werewolf close to my body, I could feel the blood running through my fingers, and he was still whimpering which at least gave me the knowledge of how he was doing.

I had to burst into my home; everyone greeted me with smiles until they noticed the weak wolf in my arms.

They understandably panicked, asking what happened to him. I could not answer until I got the boy safely lying by the fire place; I let him keep the coat as a blanket for the night. I explained what had happened and demanded Soos to grab certain tools, he looked physically ill at the sight of the wolf child, he didn’t need to apologize, I understood fully.

Wendy gave a look at his bullet wound; she was the most composed but still visibly upset and stressed. She attempted to speak to him; he only gave a few weak barks in response, she kept my coat tight on his wound. His growling and whimpering quieter, I could see strength fade from his eyes. Mabel had given Dipper the hat he received from Wendy that summer.

Mabel…she was…I felt ashamed in her presence. Devastated, tearful…when she saw him after I came in, she probably believed he had died in my arms.

She spoke to him in whispers, he growled, yelped, barked; both speaking to each other while she stroked his head gently. She asked who did this to him, reassuring him; I imagined Dipper was doing the same.

Letting him place his head in her lap, the siblings comforting each other; the weredipper nuzzled her arm. Both crying, their bond still strong; she tucked him in my coat, promising not to leave until he recovered, his eyes fluttering to a close. He was still conscious but worn.

I struggled to apologized to her, saying I was responsible for his protection, she did not blame me as well and said she was only furious with the hunting group, I could only respond with a hug and promised I would do everything to save his life, she was determined to do the same, along with the others.

In hindsight, it’s not the safest thing to do, but I needed to remove that bullet. I had some medical inventions and tools that will reduce the risk of further damage.

Normally one should leave it in to heal before removal so to avoid making the wound worse but I was weary that his transformation back might cause some complications with his health; sure he does heal slightly from changing but I can’t imagine it being moved around every day and night could do anything good to him.

And what if silver bullets can kill his breed? Silver can’t harm them from what I’ve researched but what if it’s only specifically from being shot with silver bullets? As if being shot wasn’t enough.

And the hunters might notice the fresh wound in human form, I doubt even his slight healing could hide his injury well enough. They’ll remember where they hit the wolf. I don’t want to raise suspicion. I can’t underestimate them. Desperate times call for desperate measures as they say and I don’t want the boy to suffer any more than he has. I don’t want it being used as evidence in some form.

The bullet wasn’t too deep in his arm anyway.

Soos had given everything I need but the man soon fainted from the sight! He’s fine from the looks of it. Despite that he refused to leave room while feeling ill, said that he can’t leave his injured friend’s side. Guess he thought it was heartless to leave the room with the boy like this, I understand that it’s hard to look at, but it’s a loyal gesture I must admit.

Note: Should only be performed by medical experts or those with other dimensional device knowledge.

We had to keep the bleeding under control and slow it down before getting to the bullet in his arm. It would be safer to remove it that way, and I can use my own made devices without issue.

The girls held Dipper down as I carefully removed the bullet with forceps, he was snarling loudly, it wasn’t wedged near vital areas but it wasn’t a fun feeling for him either.

Wendy pressed the coat on his wound again.

Now the bullet, the bullet was pure silver, no mistake it’s Preston’s, only person bedsides myself who could get their hands on one. And it wasn’t laced to my relief.

Mabel was surprisingly calm asking me if the silver bullet was fatal for him but from my studies, Dipper’s breed was unaffected by silver thankfully, the fact someone was out to kill him was still a disturbing thought.

Until Mcgucket arrives we must keep him calm and clean the injury, I had to wash it down first, Wendy acted as an assistant and Mabel kept him calm, we need a team effort to save him! First washing it down as the red head teen poured water on it and I treated it. Dipper soon fell unconscious as Mabel cradled his head, we panicked briefly, but he’s still breathing. Mabel is holding him tightly like a stuffed animal, she refuses to let go, whispering softly to the wolf that she’s still here…even forcing a smile. Doing everything to keep the knocked out werewolf safe and comfortable; it certainly helps with the mood of the entire event. Even unconscious, it would keep the cursed boy’s health stable.

Stanley had finally walked into the room, bet he was sleeping and unaware. The old wolf froze and bolted over to us, I could clearly understand his expression, confused, agonized over the sight, he even nudged the weak child and tried speaking to him.

He showed his fangs at me! My brother probably thought I didn’t protect him, I told him he wasn’t helping this way; though Mabel helped explain what had happen, he ended up running off with the most enraged expression. He didn’t say anything to Mabel before that according to her and I don’t know what’s going through his head but that’s not important right now.

F finally arrived! I said he couldn’t stay long so not to raise suspicion from the town but we applied the medicine to the wolf child’s patched up wound. He told us the effects should work over night and should fully heal without scarring! It might be sore still however. At least this could keep others from suspecting Dipper. Again seeing him with a serious wound the next day after a werewolf was shot last night might appear suspicious. I cannot allow that!

But I give F my sincere gratitude and he hoped for the boy’s recovery!

We said our goodbyes and I wished him luck for the journey home, though knowing him; he can take care of himself.

Important!: F said a large werewolf has been attacking and injured the group I was with! No bites, but they’re pretty cut up apparently. Stan hasn’t checked on the boy in a while, and the beast seemed to be going after Preston specifically…

Wendy had torn part of her green plaid shirt to bandage his wound; I don’t believe she needed to do that but I did not say a word about it, she told Mabel it would protect the healing so the pig wouldn’t lick it off, actually now that I think of it, it’s a good protection against the nosy pig. (Mabel if you read this no offense!)

I overheard Mabel mentioning something to Wendy about texting to Northwest’s daughter, appears if she found out who was the werewolf that was shot. She was asking if he was alright and how she can’t leave home due to the curfew, I have a feeling she’s crossed with her father.

Because I couldn’t allow any slip-up, I demanded Mabel to ask if he found out but thankfully it wasn’t the case, I have to see them tomorrow, but I’m not going to enjoy talking to that soulless man.

If Dipper dies I will not hold back on him.

Mabel’s still teary eyed over Dipper, poor thing. Those men did almost take her brother away from her…reminds me…no! I can’t bring myself to think about that heartbreaking incident that summer, I have enough to stress about as it is. Dipper still hasn’t woken up since passing out in Mabel’s arms…I hope he makes it through the night.

I had awoken to the sound of Dipper’s whimpers, he was crying in his sleep due to discomfort, but most important, Dipper has finally woken up!

We could not bear to leave him alone and even slept in the same room we treated him in by setting up sleeping bags (Soos regained consciousness sometime after Mcgucket arrived), even the pig joined!

Mabel had been sleeping next him and petting him since the treatment, she was glued to him understandably.

Turns out he was also quite dehydrated, we gave him water but he was still very weak so I had to pour it into a bowl for him. We all gave him our words of joy and relief and got him a bit more comfortable in my coat. I told him he had nothing to fear and advised he should continue to rest, he’s still very weak and dearly needs it, I think I saw his tail wag slightly, probably feeling reassured and safe with his family. He lied closer to his sister, he wanted to feel more secure, the other’s gave their encouraging words before going back to sleep. Of course most were “hang in there” and “you’ll be ok”.

The werewolf and my great-niece shared whispers, lulling themselves to sleep, the ambience of the woods easing them down, he looked so protective of her even as he slept.

There’s still a long night ahead of us and I fee……l to be on the verge of sleep too.

I need to move my bag a bit closer to them.

Dipper is still in critical condition, but there’s a new peaceful sense around us.

If you made it this far, know that we all care deeply for you Dipper and no one can take you away from us.

Stanley has returned; it’s very late and his fur is extremely frazzled, I asked if he vented out on Preston and the others, but I didn’t need to ask to find that out. I chewed him out which basically sounded like me arguing with a wolf. I would have done the same to that man but I can’t risk exposure, he might have made things more difficult for us! Stanley you idiot! I know you did it out of anger for what he did to the boy but this is not the time!

But I can’t stay mad at him, I don’t have the energy and there’s no downside to this yet, I’ll give him a scolding in the morning. Stan only growled and eyed me slyly, before curling up next to the boy like a giant pillow, sighing and nuzzling him in care.

Right now he’s been wanting me to sleep exactly next to him and Dipper. Stanley that’s nice of you but don’t play dumb I know what you did Stan, when you wake up; we’re going to have a long chat about this.

I’ve decided to lie next to him, petting Stan.

I asked if he was hurt.

He shook his head and moaned.

He was lying; I noticed the cut on his chest, not a serious one, would heal fine overnight.

I asked if he bit anyone, he shook his head again.

I believe him.

I scratched his shaggy neck, looking at him sadly.

I asked if he was still upset about Dipper’s condition.

He turned to me, giving me a look of disbelief as why I would ask something so stupid. He whimpered and placed his head next to Dipper’s.

I knew he did it out of love for the boy, and to protect the family he loves. But I also reminded him he could have exposed our secret, and he could have helped by staying with the boy instead. He seemed upset, he knew, but something told me he believed he had to do it so it would never happen again. I let him know this, he nodded.

He rubbed his snout against the boy and placed his head next to mine.

I asked one last question, did anyone recognize him?

Another shake, good, I’ll check in with the group tomorrow to double check.

There’s nothing left to do until the sun rises, when Dipper is human by then.

Stanley, please do not think I believe you abandoned Dipper, we all love him, and you dreaded about this happening along with the rest of us. 

We love you Dipper, you are not a monster and neither is Stan. I wished I could have saved you from this.

Please recover and don’t treat yourself any less after this, we don’t want to see you like that.


	3. A Nephew's Transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford's writes his experience of comforting his cursed nephew.

I had to accompany my great nephew tonight, which meant I had to witness him change form once again. Horrible sight, no matter how many times I see it I’m always afraid for him. A thirteen year old boy, having to go through this every night in screaming agony; no child should go through this. Being forced to endure a painful transformation into a beast, and there’s nothing he can do once it starts, only cry until it’s over. Helpless to the change, and for that moment he felt isolated from the rest of the world. It’s nothing but pure misery for him; it’s only temporary, but he goes visibly silent sometimes before it starts. Being temporary did not make it less terrible. His cries always get to me, he hated going through it alone. He once told me he felt less separated with the curse with our companionship.

I even tend to check on him when I can before the coming transformation, I either found him by the window still in the attic or lying on his bed. The poor boy looked so rejected the way he waited for the coming night, huddling up. Mabel usually stayed with him to make sure he’ll be alright.

The concept of a child being a werewolf was a horrifying subject on its own, but seeing one in person, especially my own nephew; heartbreaking. I’ve never seen a child so afraid of himself.

I’m so sorry Dipper.

I was going over my findings when I heard Dipper’s haunting scream. Startled and afraid for his well-being, I left quickly to check on his condition. I found his sister already with him, speaking to him within the attic. The poor boy was on the floor shaking, holding his sister’s hand tightly as he kept his frightened eyes on hers. He crawled closer to her and Mabel wrapped her arms around his torso, stroking the back of his vest. His agonized groans softened and he curled up slightly into a ball.

I sat next to my niece; it appeared I caught her by surprise as she flinched when I came into view. She gave me the saddest eyes and I patted her head. We both softly said “Dipper” and the boy weakly turned to me.

“It’s only me, it’s ok.” I reassured.

I stroked his head with the back of my fingers gently; he leaned into his sister for comfort. I gave Mabel a small smile as she eyed me.

“You two don’t mind if I accompany you?” I could not leave Dipper in his agony.

“I think its ok…I’m not sure about him.”

“I-it’s fine Mabel.” He was struggling to speak.

I sighed feeling rather...heartless to say.

“I know I don’t come to check…often. I thought maybe you deserved some space during this so I tend to...”

“Come on, don’t feel guilty. You’re not the only one who does that.” Mabel gave me a tiny smile.

“I kn-know you’re worried and care like the others…wh-what I go through isn’t…” Dipper groaned as he tried to finish.

“Isn’t a pleasant sight and difficult to watch.” I finished for him.

“Y-y-yeah...”

“Shhh, try to relax. Your screaming alarmed me and I panicked for your safety, I couldn’t leave you be.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize; it’s out of your power.”

I quietly asked Mabel if I could hold her brother in my arms, to help ease his suffering.

Dipper muttered the offer sounded nice, Mabel answered with “go ahead”.

She carefully helped him over to me; the boy winced as we moved him, placing his hands against my chest and burying his face into my sweater. Shaking terribly; I hugged him tightly as if he were a lost child, he cried helplessly.

Mabel lied against me, wanting to stay close to her brother; she stroked the sprouting fur on the back of his hands.

With teary eyes he looked into mine.

“Don’t let go…”

“I won’t.”

He gave an awful scream as the changes became more drastic. He gripped my sweater tight, his long claws poked through it as the bones shifted. I cringed and I told him softly that his claws were cutting into me. He let go and apologized with great remorse; he stammered saying he was trying not to hurt me but I hushed him by telling him to settle down and not worry about it.

I could actually feel his body change, the bones moving under the skin, bending in impossible ways. Cracking yet somehow not breaking; it’s disturbing, it’s like the bones are trying to escape him, his body swelling up! I think I heard some organs moving inside him too! I loosened my hug a few times when his inside shifted suddenly.

His rib cage expanded and the bones pressed against his skin. He wheezed and sucked in a mouthful of air, trying to breathe. I imagine his lungs might have enlarged with his chest. I could feel added pressure against me, Dipper moved a little away from me as growing in size made my hug increasingly tighter. His ribs were visible against his shirt! It was tightening around him and small holes formed as it started to tear, short patches of fur poked through them.

He pulled at his vest’s left sleeve hole; I understood this as him trying to remove his vest and shirt before he destroyed it. Mabel and I picked up on this and we helped him remove them. Shaggy brown fur was covering him in patches, rather soft fur. He ran his hands stressfully through the growing hair. I hugged him tightly again and he nestled trying to get comfortable. I gently ran my fingers through his fur to soothe him; he quieted down by a bit and his body relaxed slightly. His eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see not my reaction out of shame; I guess he’s still afraid of how I look at him.

His shoulders and spine pushing tightly against his back, lumps trailed down from the spine pushing against his skin. His shoulders reformed, hunched and swelling. He went from an overly hairy chest to the body of an animal.

He wants it to stop so badly…

I adjusted him in my arm constantly to accommodate his new shape; I had to give room for his legs as they stretched out and formed paws. He kicked around briefly, the claws scratching the floor as his legs reshaped into that of a wolf’s. He curled up having his knees up to his stomach; his knees were locked in a buckled position for his wolf anatomy. I rubbed his back telling him he was safe, my chin resting atop the boy’s head.

He kept burying his face into me when the transformation got too unbearable, he did not want to let go of me. Tears ran down his face as he cried, his eyes squeezed shut. His voice was mixing with human and canine whimpers as I clenched my teeth looking down at him despairingly; I placed a hand on the back of his head, holding him closer. I could feel his heart pounding.

I tried thinking of something else to say to him but my mind was drawing a blank, I could only say he’s alright so many times. Mabel stroked his furry arm, whispering that he should rest and give himself a break for the night. True, he has been stressing a lot more the past few nights, and I rather have him stay home after what happened last night.

He responded, muttering he might as well get some other things done while he’s home.

The boy suddenly recoiled and pressed his face deep into my sweater. I flinched as I felt something move across me, Dipper chuckled through his tears.

“Sorry…it’s the tail.”

Indeed I saw his new tail slowly move back and forth. Mabel snickered to herself and got hold of his tail, she ran her hands down it playfully. I snickered as I noticed Dipper’s displeased glare.

It was short lived when he cried out as his face began to change. He covered it with both hands; I slipped a few fingers under his hands as I noticed he had scratched himself.

“You got yourself above the eyebrow there, got to watch those claws.”

“It’ll heal a bit when it changes…I’m good.” He gave a nervous small laugh. “Great Uncle Ford? Thanks for staying with us.”

I gave him a smile. His eyes broke away as a loud sickening crunch was made as his face pushed out, he screamed with a morphing voice, deepening and being altered to only make sounds of a wolf. His words becoming garbled; his nose splayed and blackened as it pushed out with his jaws to form a snout.

I knew the following I did was risky, but stroked the half formed muzzle with a single thumb, the werewolf boy’s growls softened, he still whimpered as his teeth cracked, moved and grew into fangs. Odd to feel the nose change texture!

His wolf ears flattening, his sister petted him from the scalp to the ears.

Dipper seemed worried about biting me by accident judging how he turned his muzzle away from me but I told him nothing of the sort would happen. Fur now covered every inch of him; he snapped his jaws open when his neck widen and appeared to panic for that moment but I held him against me once again. He had to lie on the side of his face as it’s now a bit trickier to bury his face into me.

Dipper’s human form vanished before my eyes and was replaced by the werewolf form. I still cannot get over that I was staring at the very same inquisitive and kindly Dipper; just like that the transformation took away the familiarity of my great nephew once again. It’s still hard to accept that he can go from a child to a werewolf. In a way, I was trying to refuse the truth of the situation.

Yet his human browns eyes remained, telling me the real Dipper was within. Once again stuck in the form of an age old dangerous creature and he’ll remain this way till sunrise.

He lifted his head off of me and howled in my arms, a wolf again for the night. Looking at him in the eyes while he’s howling, his brown eyes had fear mixed with sorrow and yet, also looking at peace, mesmerized and calmed by his own howling. I could feel his body quiver from it.

I called his name to settle him down but he seemed very much into it.

“Dipper…Dipper!”

He seemed startled by my interruption and his expression told me he was wondering why I stopped him.

“I’m just checking on you, sorry to stop you.”

The werewolf rubbed his head against me affectionately, finally lying still in my arms, his tail wagging slightly. I scratched his ears with a quiet laugh, the oversized pup rested comfortably in place, sinking into me. I ran my hand from the back of his head to his spine as I stroked him gently; he certainly is much cleaner in this form. The wolf boy’s eyes half-closed, being lulled by our comfort; it felt like I was cradling a stuffed animal. I wiped his remaining tears away from the fur; in his resting state the werewolf formed a small smile.

He’s a good kid, he can control himself, and he fears what he might do, what he has to endure and how others see him. But his suffering and fear was easily (or not depending on the situation) soothed by the care and companionship of his family.

He deserves that care.

I whispered that he’ll be safe tonight; I still need to leave for the nightly scouting, hunting or whatever name we’re calling it tonight. Wendy should be able to protect them, I’m not too sure about Soos but he’s doing his best and Stan believes he can.

Mabel wrapped her arms around her brother’s shaggy neck. Rubbing her face against his forehead, grinning as Dipper made some calm sounding growls. Asking if he’s feeling a bit better and if his nearly healed wound is bothering him, he’s fine from what I got.

She told him sweetly that she could play some movies and do some art to entertain themselves, and something about books. Dipper wants to look up something and Mabel said something about reading one of her books to him…which he doesn’t seem to like for some reason. Though despite the disagreement, he still wants to be with his sister. The longer I observe them; they really do seem more glued together since gaining the curse.

As abrupt as it is, I have to leave now, they understand but I still feel bad for leaving them after that. I know the others will give him the same compassion; but I feel I need to give it to him the most…I’m only guessing, I’ve never asked him directly; but I think he feels I might be judging him after what he’s become. He doesn’t need to feel like that…but I don’t blame him after seeing what he goes through.

He’ll go through it again tomorrow night…and I can’t let him live like this for the rest of his life. He is still the only child I’ve seen as a werewolf, is there more of them? I hope not, it’s just too horrible.

I hope things turn out better tonight.


	4. My Brother's Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan is acting strange and is avoiding the kids, what's going on?

Stan has been acting strangely lately, he’s been avoiding everyone in the shack, and he won’t even look at us in the eyes. He’s been acting more stubborn and irritable than usual, he told me off when I asked what’s bothering him. Fine let him throw his tantrum, if he doesn’t want to talk about what happened last night, I’ll get the information from the kids; at least they’re more willing to talk.

Apparently they don’t know either, Stan was missing all night! Dipper had to take charge, he wanted to search for him but he remained home worried for the others safety. I was at Fiddleford’s home researching for a cure the entire night. Reminded me of old times!

From what I was told, Stan returned by morning.

I also learned during a check in with the hunters and the town that a fearsome werewolf tried breaking into the town hall and “sanctuary”. No bites thankfully.

That better not be him, such a foolish thing to do.

What could he have possibly been doing? Better not be endangering himself to take his anger out on the hunters again. He’s an idiot if he thought endangering innocents would make anything easier.

I did notice one of those “were-hunter” travelers was beaten up quite a bit, if Stanley broke one of their arms well then good.

To anyone who reads this, do not misunderstand me; again I have no ill thoughts against anyone but the “were-hunters”. The residents (some of them might be visitors) are still confused and rightfully scared individuals, excluding a certain rich man.

As long if it’s just the “were-hunters”. They’ve been getting too wild lately and I’m not allowing another being hurt by them.

Sometime later, I heard him yell angrily and demanded the twins to get out, it sounded a bit uncharacteristic as he never got this harsh, even for someone like him! Words were exchanged, yells, crying, fighting. It eventually ended with Stan tiredly saying he could not gather the courage to share what happened that night, there seemed to be dread in his tone.

The kids went off to do their things and I was left with my brother; by the look in my great niece eyes, I could tell Stan was hurting in some way, but neither of us knew for sure why.

He still hasn’t taken a step out of his bedroom, and its afternoon, I’m growing worried for him. Stan you better still be here, I can’t afford to have a mob after you, and not the ones you’re used to.

I’ve just had the most…distressing talk with Stanley.

I had to barge in his room as I was fed up with this waiting game, and I only have a window of time left until he loses his voice.

First thing I saw was him sitting on the edge of his bed…with handcuffs. Something he usually likes to avoid, but I could see the fear in his expression, thinking. His hands trembling, running his thumb over it, I could feel sorrow and anger in the air.

I shall write down the conversations for better context.

He noticed me without even turning his head.

“Get out…”

His voice harsh, there was stuffiness in his tone, seems like he was crying earlier.

“Stop giving me attitude…I need to talk.”

“Get out!”

He gave me a rather beastly glare, I actually thought for a second he had lost it to the curse.

“Stan.”

“I saw her cry…takes a monster to do that doesn’t it?”

His voice breaking.

“I’m some kind of monster in both forms, wouldn’t be surprised if she never speaks to me again. I deserve that, probably better this way.” His voice was sarcastic with a chuckle, but I knew better.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Everything, everyone needs to stay the heck away from me; I’ll only do more harm than good.”

“Stop the self-pity and tell me…”

“Pity?” He actually grabbed me by the turtle neck, I remained calm I didn’t want his werewolf self to get agitated any more than it is.

“You think I’m feeling sorry for myself? I’m the guy who can wipe everyone out here in one bad move, you think I want that? You think I’m more worried for myself than my family? How are you seeing that as self-pity?”

I had to carefully pull away from him.

“First…it’s ‘How are you?’…grammar… and second…You can’t keep hiding why you’re acting like this, it’s only going to make things harder for all of us, then you might actually do harm.”

He gradually settled down, he covered his face with both hands, regretful.

He opened up to me, forcing himself with that deep fear reappearing.

Last night as a beast, he actually _did_ return home.

None of them knew, and there was more to his story.

He lost control that night; apparently he got in a scuffle with another werewolf, but his violent urges continued to flow after the encounter. He couldn’t stop it, a chain of events lead him to attacking some Manotaurs and a bear. He even tried breaking into the town hall and the “sanctuary.”

He was driven off before he could infect anyone but he did injure some.

He returned home after, apparently sneaking in quietly. He swears he knew he regained control; that it was safe to go back. He made sure of that, he tried to keep himself in the woods until he was himself. He wouldn’t allow himself to do something so stupid, maybe by accident, and even he admits it but still; I trust his word.

He paused before going on; he did not want to recall what could have been.

“Stanford, they were all knocked out, sleeping. I thought that was a good thing, you know? They didn’t have to see the mess I was. I wasn’t a pretty sight.”

He hesitates to continue.

“Then my body just stopped listening when I got close.”

He pauses once again.

“I was just staring at the kids, those two, eyes just glued to them. Then my teeth starts showing, I kept inching towards Mabel, growling…jaws opening…none of them heard me, not even the wolf kid.”

He went into detail of how he had the urge to…kill them right then and there; somehow he had lost control at that point again. He was very close to doing it, and the fear in his voice was becoming more apparent. He had trouble fighting it, savage for so long he believed he almost would have done the deed, but he managed to turn himself away after just barely sinking his jaws into them. Going back to the woods.

I understood now.

My brother having to deal with the reality that he could still kill them with one wrong move, he had experienced a living nightmare. The fact he could destroy those he loved most with his own hands against his will. He did experience an attempt once before, after his first transformation.

Dipper and Mabel’s bravery along with their closeness with him managed to stop him before, but in his head, he wondered what would happen if it was too late.

Twice he had this happen; twice he had nearly killed them.

Those events burned into his mind, he wanted them safe like anyone else, and he was the danger himself.

Stanley…he was silent after telling me his story, torn up on the inside. His right hand grabbing the side of his head as he leaned forward, staring at his left hand; I could see the pain in his eyes, fearing for them; appearing helpless.

I thought he was going to cry.

“I didn’t have the guts to tell them, was afraid how they would see me after that. First time was understandable for them. This time…I was normal, it took a look at them to go back into ripping things apart.”

“Stan I’m not going to take them away from you, and you know well enough they’re not going to see you any differently.”

“It’s the control part I’m talking about Ford.” He snapped.

“You probably weren’t as calm as you thought you were; it might have been the stress still bothering you on what you did before then.”

“You and Dipper mentioned something about the personality being a factor, like if the person is some kind of huge jerk then they’re more of a threat and get less control.”

“We were only theorizing; it’s not one-hundred percent confirmed. Stan what happened last night was a freak accident at best.”

“Losing control like that? You know my history; it probably has something to do with it.”

“Dipper has these moments as well; you know this would happen on occasions.”

“Point Dexter don’t you get the big picture here? I could be curled up right next to them, and then the next second I could be mauling them without warning. That calming stuff won’t be enough for me; it’s not going to stop me in time from eating them.”

“Stan look at Dipper, he’s been through and done a lot of terrible things with his curse. He hasn’t seriously injured anyone besides that one incident. It takes time to get better at regaining control of the wolf form, if a child can manage it so can you.”

“You forgot one big difference Sixer.”

“And that is?”

There’s a short pause, he swallowed.

“He’s a better guy than me.”

Hearing that come from him left me speechless.

“He’s soft…too soft, that’s why he’s better at this than I am. You know what I’ve done in the past; I’m not the right kind of person for this control stuff.”

“So what are you planning, you just going to get up and leave?”

“No, I’m not abandoning them, me leaving my family? You really think I’ll do something that low? I care too much for all those kids, same for you Sixer. You all know me, never going to pull that stunt. That’s why I stayed despite almost killing them the first time; I can’t leave them alone with all that crazy stuff going on out there, someone has to watch those knuckleheads. Not insulting Dipper by the way, he did it because he cared about everyone’s safety too. He didn’t need to do that, he did say it was only for a few days, lot of us cared too much to let him isolate himself like that and there’s no way that kid is gonna survive out there.”

“I’m not insulting him either. I just wish to know what you plan on doing.”

Stan was a broken man, the beast side of him was leaving him deathly afraid.

“I want to keep protecting them…but I might hurt them, I don’t want to get close to them, that wolf part might take them away. Dipper just barely managed to fight me off last time, he might not be as lucky during the next. I don’t trust myself; I think I need to lock myself up for now.”

He hated what he was capable of, hated he let himself become this.

“Stan, we’ll do anything to help you, none of us will let you bring harm to ourselves. Accidents might happen, but none in the way you’re thinking of. Just remember to keep thinking of those close to you, remember how much we care. Soothe the mind.”

“I know that helps, I always do during that…but after that I don’t even know if it still works.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“I won’t stop you; lock up yourself if you want. Just get some rest.”

I was about to leave, things felt dire, I needed to think on what he told me.

Then he spoke up again.

“…I…I have a favor to ask ya.” He stuttered.

I was uneasy about this, the way his tone sounded, whatever he was going to ask me, it did not sound good. I stayed silent as I forced myself to answer.

“What is it?”

He swallowed.

“Sixer…If I get any worse or lose it and...If I…” he was struggling to say it as he dreaded the thought. “Hurt them…shoot me. Just shoot me.”

I did not know what to say to that at first, I could only stare at him while a hole formed inside me.

He didn’t even look at me in the eyes, too afraid, too ashamed. He knew what I thought of the idea.

And he was correct.

I told him he did not need to be this extreme; I could taser him or even tranquillize him! But he wouldn’t accept it, he already had a taste of those in his cursed form; both had little effect. And it would not stop him fast enough in the middle of an attack.

I…I told him I cannot bring myself to do it; I can’t even bear the thought.

He wasn’t the most rational of people, and that’s me putting it in the nicest way. But he loved those close to him, he very much loved them.

I knew he was doing this for their sake.

But he doesn’t have to resort to this, I can help him, I even told him that.

Emptiness was in his expression, he did not want to go to this level either from what I could see in him. He held his chin, covering his mouth, he ignored my protest.

“You’ll have to do it when it happens…just let those kids know it was my idea. Don’t tell them what went on last night. I’ll tell them, maybe. I’ll be in the basement later.”

I stared at him; I can’t see him as the danger he made himself out to be. His self-loathing was showing throughout the whole conversation. He wasn’t going to listen to anything else I had to say, I gave him my wishes for him that nothing like that will happen, he hoped so too.

As I left for my room I swear I heard the quietest sobbing.

I think I’ll rest myself, just for a few minutes.

NO! That nightmare…my fears had manifested in the form of a terrible dream; as if to mock me. It’s burned into my memory; the air is cold around me after awakening from it.

I was alone in the woods, armed with silver bullets. Cliché setting really, but…it struck me on a personal level; Stan was…I should compose myself first.

The dream…Stanley was ruthless in his beast form, too violent; he injured a great number of people. Everyone was after him, the kids weren’t seen or mentioned in my dream and I count that as a positive, I rather not see the dream’s interpretation of them.

I wished to deal with him alone, it’s better that way. He rather not let anyone see him in such a state, he doesn’t want that shame; he has enough of it as it is.

I really do not wish to see him in that kind of misery, my heart is still pounding from the dream; I’m trying my best to settle down my fear but it’s only causing it to fester. Documenting it does not seem to help but I feel I must, to avoid and prepare the possibility of this happening in reality.

He attacked me on sight; I called out to him as I struggled to get him off of me. I couldn’t read his eyes; there was only savagery in them. But the true Stan had to be deeply horrified in there.

Then…I did something to him.

To make it short…I shot him.

I shot him.

I shot my own brother!

I was only defending myself, I never meant to…

I just wanted him back; to stop attacking.

And he lied there injured, he did not move, laying in the mess of dead leaves, the beast, Stanley, could only whimper. His expression showing abandonment, he knew he had lost everything from this, and his pained expression turned to acceptance. I collapsed to his side.

I remember apologizing, begging for him to stay awake as he bled out. I tried my best to soothe his pain, to tend his wound. It was no use, he changed back into a man; when a werewolf dies in beast form they change back into their true…

It ended with me weeping on him, I didn’t want it to end that way, and I won’t!

There was moisture under my eyes when I woke up; I couldn’t hold them back in my sleep. I had to lie back down, needing to be alone with my thoughts. Reminding myself that it’s only a nightmare, but there was still a truth from it, that to an extent, something like this could happen. I refuse to use “can”.

If that actually happened I…I would never forgive myself, even if I had to.

Stan is…Stan is only afraid, just thinking too much. He managed to restrain himself enough so he wouldn’t injure people, he’ll be alright. Stan is capable of preventing the worst by himself, the fact alone he could turn away before attacking them says it. The whole incident must be a fluke; I should have never mentioned that personality theory in front of him if I knew it would lead to this!

And even if the theory turned out to be correct, I know my brother enough in his werewolf form, he’s gentle around the kids; much more so than when he was a man, he loves them enough to sacrifice himself for them.

I’ve seen the other werewolves; he’s more similar to Dipper’s docile behavior in a fashion then theirs. Again he’s not quite docile but he’s trying his best to be careful. And the kids would not let him dare harm another soul; he can trust them. I wonder if not only he’s holding the first night of his transformation against his self but his revenge spree a while back? That incident was understandable and typical with his normal behavior.

I can only picture him now as a large lonesome werewolf confined within the basement, nothing of the monstrous sort trying to escape to harm his family.

I never want to see him meet such a tragic fate; I’m getting the need to stroke his fur.

It’s sunset, he and Dipper won’t be human for much longer.

Dipper better get home in time, he’s been pretty good so far on keeping track. Mabel should help him out if they run into trouble.

They haven’t returned since the argument, I hope they’re alright. They wouldn’t hold a grudge with him being difficult, they understand.

I think they should at least know what’s going on; they might get sense back into him. But they should console him at the right moment, when he’s not consumed by his own guilt. I believe the best moment is when he’s curled up resting.

I do wish to check on him…

Just checking up, he told me he’ll leave for the basement in a bit. He sounds quite exhausted and hoarse, not much progress was made from his earlier mood. I noticed hesitation in his voice, probably still worried for what might occur tonight. I reassured him by informing him I’ll keep the kids very close, Dipper will get the both of them to safety if Stan gets too vicious.

“You’re going to tell them aren’t you?” he asked.

“I’ll only say that you need time alone, it’s up to you to tell them what happened yesterday.”

“Don’t know when that’s gonna be.”

I left without saying anymore.

What if it does come to that? It’s incredibly mortifying just imagining having to point a gun at...No!

I had done it before, I did aim at him, but it wasn’t any simple gun…he was also sacrificing himself at that time, and I…No, I can’t bring myself to do something like that ever again, I do not want to relive that day.

Not again.

I’m not taking him away again.

I have other options this time, even if that fool won’t accept them, he’s overreacting. But his fear is justified.

I just cannot go through that again, and I don’t want the kids having to deal with that pain.

There’s a better way.

Excuse me, but I need to think more on the precautions.

Today is exhausting…

I foolishly allowed myself to fall asleep while I was going through my thoughts! Never think while lying down, your body confuses it with rest. (Maybe I should have taken Mabel’s homemade juice but it’s horrible on my nerves!)

There’s screaming from Stanley’s bedroom! That fool didn’t go to the basement despite his worrying? Did he lose track of the time again or pass out? How did he mess this up?

Are the kids back?

He’s banging and clawing the door, I can even hear his voice lower to an animalistic growl. He’s in mid-transformation!

Stan’s calling for me, he probably can’t move.

Got to get him out of there, his panicking is only making it worse!

Things are finally starting to settle down, another rough night but it could have been worse. Pleased it did go smoother than expected, but he still needs comforting to put his mind at rest.

Stanley had fallen asleep after my last check up; the stress had worn him to the point of exhaustion; and his sorrow ate at him until he lost track of the time.

Both of us had slept in at the same time; guess we were both equally drained, and unlucky.

Keep in mind I did not learn some of these details until Mabel translated their speech to me.

He woke up in terrible pain, too late he realized he had slept in. His body was already contorting, changing; the fur already covered his clawed hands.

His body hurting too much from the changes, he could not escape from his bedroom. He could only call for me and claw at the floor.

This came out a bit more dramatic than how Stan supposedly worded it but I wanted to capture the feeling of it. Stan isn’t that in depth with his descriptions but I did not add anything untrue. (Stanley is glancing at me as I write; he would be giving me a snarling fit if I wrote something he disagreed with, though I think he’s pleased with the way I’m giving a fancy touch. Don’t be smug with me, you don’t even write like this!)

Back to the subject, like I said before, I awoke to Stan’s screams of terror. He managed to drag himself to his door; we both knew it couldn’t hold him in. Begging for me to hurry as he could not hold back the changes for very long, none of us knew if the kids had returned yet. I had to finish that last entry in a rush; even writing when I was bolting to him! When I found him, he was lying on the floor in a half-formed state, even more disheveled. His clothes tattered as his fur peeked from the tears of his suit. The man’s eyes with a mix fear and feral anger, I think that might be just his transformation giving him that appearance; the glow from his eyes did raise a few flags. He looked like a wild man on all fours, hands and knees; he struggled to lift himself off the ground.

I dropped to the floor seeing him like this, scared and miserable as he tried to helplessly flee to the basement.

He didn’t need this; I can’t stand seeing him like that.

Grabbing him by the arms, I pulled him closer to me, wrapping my arms around him. He leaned into me weakly, trembling; his head on my right shoulder. His breathing pained, moaning and quietly weeping. He grabbed my arms, his claws sinking into my skin; I thought he could crush my bones by accident. I was frightened to say, there was a risk of him injuring me due to his lack of focus; his agony and other worries distracting him obviously.

I rubbed his back, trying my best to remain calm but my tone revealed its unease.

“Stanley, I got you. It’s going to be ok. Just focus on me!”

“Ford, throw me in the basement. Do it.”

He gave me a pleading look, he didn’t wish hurt anyone against his will, and he was vulnerable emotionally.

“I’ll get you down there, but I need you to cooperate, hold on and hold back the transformation for a bit longer. Bear with it until you get there alright? We want you calm; keep your eyes on me.”

“With that face?”

Ignoring that comment, that technically counts as him staying calm.

I helped him up; he was emitting growls and whines from discomfort. His legs were next to change and when that happens I won’t be able to move him down there as quick. He stayed close to me, shaking; he wanted me to keep himself under control. He knew I was one of the few who could still handle him in his wild state. I believe he found comfort from me as I assisted him; Stan’s shaking did ease down by a little. No longer feeling alone with his fears and struggle by my side.

He could barely stand with the transformation going on, even when hanging on to me!

Stan’s eyes were on the floor most of the time, wheezing as sweat ran down his face, holding back the transformation only seem to weaken him.

He clung on tightly, I handled him carefully; I couldn’t move him as fast as I wanted to due to his stumbling, moving him too fast only caused him to recoil from sudden sharp pains.

He gave me an angry response and I argued why he would stop to complain if he’s in a hurry! We weren’t making much progress to get there at a snail’s pace.

Then he asked.

“Where are they? They’re back here aren’t they?”

I didn’t really give much thought on where they were at the time, I did briefly earlier but my mind was mostly preoccupied with Stan. Hard to focus on more than one thing currently to be honest.

They should be home, they would have noticed their Great Uncle’s screaming and be down here by now. I thought of the possibility Dipper delayed his transformation with those petals, but he would have told me. And it’s night out; I hoped nothing bad happened to them.

I was telling him how I haven’t heard from them since they left, and then we heard voices from upstairs, and growling followed.

A younger sounding howl came from indoors.

That’s Dipper’s, he had finished his own at that moment. I was relieved that they were safe, Mabel could be heard coaxing her brother and growls and whines responded to her. They didn’t run into trouble outside as I found out later, and they sounded oblivious to our situation, they didn’t realize that Stan had a problem about tonight’s transformation. Considering all transformations regularly cause panic, it’s hard to tell they’re having issues unless they tell you.

Stan didn’t react well to this; he began to push himself, scrambling for it.

“Sixer, open the door!”

“Control yourself; don’t think about what you might do.”

“I can’t…hold it…”

His legs cracked and he collapsed, his changes continuing.

I did try to drag him to the basement entrance, but he tore away from me, snarling. There’s a cruel look in his eyes; he recoiled, shocked.

I gave him a look of sympathy; he was losing self-control because of his worries. Now that he knew for sure they were here; his stress only grew.

He was aware of his bestial response; he went silent, emotionally restrained. But I could still see the dread in his eyes.

He lied on the floor despairingly.

I kneeled down, stroking his head.

“Stanley, lie still. I’ll stay here with you, so don’t stress about them.”

“I figure I’m not going to make it there; don’t let me act all vicious again.”

“Then don’t do anything foolish.”

“Do nothing, got it.”

By his tone, he was trying to lighten up; that’s an improvement. But noticing his newly gained tail in between his wolf legs told me he still had feelings of unease.

He clenched his teeth, he cried out briefly as his hands went to his face.

Then I remembered; the face changing is when the transformation is at its worst! The victim cannot restrain themselves very well because of the overwhelming pain affecting their focus, leaving them vulnerable. Hard to keep self-control when you have the world’s worst migraine!

Combined with his panicked emotional state, he has a high chance of snapping.

I went to stroking his arm; he seemed to flinch from me!

Mabel shouted from above, she could hear our struggling a little.

“Grunkle Stan, you feeling ok down there?”

“You two stay put, alright? There’s a bit of a problem but don’t worry about us!”

She didn’t respond, or maybe she did and I did not hear her. But even then I doubted the two believed me.

He slid his hand from his left eye slightly, glowing. From what I could make out at that moment, I saw his face contorting slowly; his deformed expression gave him a menacing glare.

Stan whispered to me in a throaty voice.

“Back up…” loud growling followed the end of his words.

That’s not good.

“Stan, stay with me!”

“You-you better be prepared.”

“I am, and I have something different in mind.”

“And that means?”

It quickly sunk into him what I was saying.

“What do you plan on doing with me?”

“Stan, no one is getting hurt tonight, and neither are you.”

“Changing your mind ain’t gonna work, figures. You better be right.”

“I know I am. But you need to try as well if it goes sour.”

His muzzle was taking longer than it should to form; he must be holding it back to get a few words out.

“You’re putting too much faith in me.”

He groaned uncomfortably, and then let out a gut-wrenching scream. Curling up, clawing at himself, he tugged at the collar of his suit, tearing it.

His face pushing out to form a snout, the ears and fangs following; he bared them as they formed. He eyed me briefly, and I could see the shame.

The wolf-man let out whimpers as he struggled to keep himself in check.

I made space for him, keeping silent. I turned away for his sake, no more eyes on him.

I actually felt anger at myself for the brief time I could not comfort him, I shouldn’t have let him go.

He became incomprehensible, his voice deepening until he could only make the sounds of a wolf. His snarling louder and more frequent.

I wanted to shout out his name, but I knew I wasn’t going to get a response I could understand.

His human form gone for the night; and the beast stood like a man, howling into the night.

This was it.

The werewolf, my brother; kept standing after his howling; now panting with his head pointed to the floor. I didn’t know if the real him was the one at the wheel then, I hoped the real Stan was the one before me. I couldn’t see his eyes, the sign I needed if it was really him.

I was overwhelmed, what he told me earlier today and the feelings left over from the dream came rushing back.

I shook my head, my expression distressed.

“Are you alright?”

“Mabel, give us a minute.”

I couldn’t have them come down, not yet.

Stan’s ears twitched and so did his lips; he’s not feral is he?

He was standing there for a while and I found it worrying.

I asked quietly.

“Stan…Stanley?”

The beast Stan answered with a vicious snarl, hunched over, baring his oversized fangs. His eyes missing their pupils, blank. The fur sticking out of the back of his suit stood up, the remains of his clothes, his former self, still clinging onto him.

It was Stan standing before me, but it wasn’t Stan who was snarling at me.

I held still, Stan was ready to attack in his out of control form. But when they show hesitation, it means the victim is trying their hardest to keep themselves at bay. My brother was inside there desperately fighting for self-control, he had not budged from his place, twitching. His eyes glued to me; maybe he thought keeping his attention on me would distract him from going after the kids, but I knew he did not want to turn on me either. As long as I kept him soothed, he might return.

He raised his clawed fingers to his forehead, his right eye hiding under his hand’s shadow. His claws seem to play with the long tuft of fur on his head.

His shaky right hand told me that he had some control at least.

The brows furrowed, his lips still curled, and his ears flattened.

I carefully reached out to him. The beast was highly tense, watching my movements carefully, he was a time bomb, and he could attack if I made the wrong move.

He’s overly stressed knowing he lacked control, that’s not going to be helpful for his case.

“Stanley…I can help you.” I kept my tone soft.

He growled louder to my words.

“You’re scared I know. I’m afraid too, just listen to me. Focus on me; do I look like I wish to harm you? No. The kids are safe, and I can take care of myself. You’re not attacking anyone; you are standing here, holding yourself back. You’re doing fine, you have this under control. Look at yourself, if you’re dangerous as you believe. Then why can you restrain yourself this well?”

I approached him carefully and the wolf took a step back, still afraid of his own power.

My heart stopped as the floor above creaked, the wolf above moaning as his sister whispered. I only told the kids to stay upstairs, they could still move up there, not an issue. But Dipper, a werewolf too, could hear everything clearly now that things have quietened. The boy could hear that Stan wasn’t speaking in beast form, he knew something was wrong.

A concerned whine followed, Dipper was only whispering back to her as it turned out. Stan’s ears perked and his eyes went to the ceiling. Hearing the both of them communicate.

I thought maybe he would snap out of it while listening to them; that it would calm him.

Of course, I messed that up. One problem I overlooked, since I had woken suddenly from a nap, I was a bit disorganized, and I did everything on a whim. The pen I was using wasn’t quite secured in my coat pocket.

It fell out and clinked as it hit the floor.

The werewolf, who was distracted, became startled, and it threw its weight onto me. Believing I was trying to attack it while its guard was down.

The powerful beast pinned me against the floor; his jaws snapping, aiming for me. I was trapped under his weight, even suffocating from it. I held him back by the neck; despite my life at risk I did not kick him off; not even a punch to the snout. He had sliced me across the chest and barely got my face when he leapt onto me. The wound stung terribly and it hurt to move, the difficultly of breathing certainly did not help. It ached when I attempted to inhale, I shuddered at the feeling.

His claws dug into my flesh, and even during this, I did not hate him, I did not feel anger. Only sympathy, he was probably cursing himself that he did this to me.

His eyes just as hateful as they were in my dream, it was becoming a reality I thought. But I ignored those thoughts; I cannot allow the worries to distract me.

I must show him what he’s capable of, who he really is.

I let go of his neck slowly, my fingers stroking it gently; the werewolf Stan ceased growling. Yet he continued to show his fangs, he’s definitely listening however as his ears were facing forward.

“Stan, don’t. Don’t panic, you’re fine where you are.”

He gave a low growl.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’m not kicking you off. Even if that’s not the case, I don’t see a need to react that defensively. I want you to know that I’ve been worrying since…you asked me that favor a few hours ago.”

He tilted his head.

“I still cannot shoot you; I just can’t take your life. You understand that. We don’t want you hurt. And I don’t want to lose you again; we almost did that one summer, and it was by my hands. What makes you think I’ll be willing to do something like that again?”

He whimpered; he understood what I was referring to. Stanley appeared to be trying to show emotion but the curse limited his facial expressions from doing so, he wasn’t quite back yet. But I could sense sorrow from his blank eyes.

The pressure he applied to me was no longer there, he wasn’t holding me down anymore.

“I don’t feel you’re dangerous as you believe. Accidents happen yes, but I’ve known you most of my life and you’re better than you think you are. I’m your brother I should know, you’re incredibly stubborn and selfish and a grouch; but you love those kids enough to be careful in this form. You’re doing everything you can to control yourself, to keep yourself from hurting them. If you think your personality has something to do with your control, why can’t you realize your care and strong desire to protect us is a part of it. You don’t think highly of yourself but you’re good enough to get us to care about you. Better than those guys I’ve been working with, they’ve done far worse. And you know what they tried doing to Dipper.”

He growled, but I believe he did it out of hate for what they did to our nephew. His ears lowered, slowly backing off of me, his eyes closed.

“I’ve done some poor choices in my life; I didn’t even need to be a beast to do those awful things…Stan, I would know if you were too dangerous. But you’re not…you’re good enough and doing your best, that’s what matters, you’re a better man than you think. It’s fine you don’t believe that, but know that you’re good enough to be cared for and you care enough to want us safe.”

Stanley whimpered, opening his eyes, now back to their true brown color. His furrowed brows softened and the wrinkles faded from his snout; I could see remorse, shame for what he tried to do. Looking more like a frightened animal; he turned his head away, he didn’t want to look at me after that.

I sat up weakly and my pained groan got him to look back at me, concerned of the damage he left. He walked up to me carefully.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve received worse. I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Stan looked unsure about coming closer.

“Look it’s ok; you’re still shaken from this and last night. I don’t expect you to get over this quickly, this stuff is terrifying. But last night was a freak accident, and you kept yourself restrained for a bit after the change. It was only a fluke, I trust you can handle your form; I trust you as a werewolf. Being flawed won’t restrict your level of control; you’re watching yourself around others, you’ll be alright. And so will us.”

He went up to me, rubbing his snout against my right arm.

I stroked his head.

“Everyone will be ok. You’ll be ok; everything is going to be ok. My advice would be to rest and keep yourself calm.”

Stanley removed the tattered clothing off himself; once again they’re going to need some fixing. Honestly how many times has that suit been mended? When they eventually get cured at least this annoyance will stop.

He lied next to me, letting out a sigh through his nose.

I leaned next to him tiredly, watching his eyes dart around as he pondered. Unsure of the future and going over my words, what he thought of them I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure.

He sniffed my wound and I pushed him away, he kept checking despite telling him I was just fine, he’s very regretful for what he did. Whimpering and rubbing his snout against my arm, he can’t speak so I imagine he had to do what he could.

I hugged the poor beast and he wrapped his muscular arms around me soon after, he was very light, not wanting to hurt me again.

I honestly felt soothed by him; this was Stan, not the monster he believed himself to be, and the nightmare was defied. His hug grew tighter out of grief, placing his muzzle on my shoulder; I couldn’t help but think back to the times when we were children. While he defended me most of the time, sometimes he would isolate himself during those rough days. He would usually keep to himself till I showed up. Got me hurt once during a night monster hunt (there was this odd noise going on the last few nights and of course we snuck out at night to find out what was causing it.)He wouldn’t stop feeling guilty about it but I told him I wasn’t bothered and that’s the risk of looking for the strange, I even told him we wouldn’t tell our father. He then punched himself in order to make it even, left a huge bruise. That’s Stan for you.

The wolf Stan was still whimpering lowly, he let go but kept his snout on me, I smiled stroking his long gray fur. The wolf eyes the ceiling, his ears lying flat against his head. Nose twitching for smells, it was obvious what was going through his mind at that time.

Curling up beside me, he snorted and I stroked the poor creature’s fur.

“Still worried about them?”

He nodded.

“About losing control around them?”

He shook his head squinting.

“Really then…oh, is it about earlier; when you were yelling at them?”

He whimpered.

“You still think you came off as a monster…or do you think this curse is making you more aggressive in your human form…more than we’re used to I mean.”

He nods.

“I understand; you’re afraid if it’s the curse doing that or if it’s really you. That’s what makes you afraid to be near them…you think you’ll have trouble with your control not knowing if it’s yourself or the curse, and the wrong answer will get them seriously hurt because you let your guard down.”

He turned his eyes away.

“You really don’t see yourself any different from your bloodlust state.”

He nods again, growling mixed with whines, saying something I cannot make out.

“That might be why you thought you regained control last night when it wasn’t the case.”

He moaned.

“And if things play out wrong, you might do something terrible...You’re not alone with the nightmares.”

I told him of the awful dream I had, where I shot him fatally. It was difficult going through the details of what happened; I found myself unable to keep my eyes on him. Too ashamed, too mortified of what I witnessed. I began to stutter, I’m feeling guilty over a dream. I had to tell him as I did not want to see him meet his end in that fashion. Yet I kept a weak smile on my face despite my grief.

To my surprise, he nuzzled my hand before I could finish; emitting a soft, light sounding growl, similar to a purr.

Comforting me; he understood.

“Yeah…we’re both afraid of the worst outcome. You may get dangerous, but I don’t want to do that to you. I’m doing everything to prevent that from happening so don’t get the idea I’m being careless. Don’t be ashamed of losing control, it has nothing to do with who you are. Lock yourself up if you feel you need to, again no shame in that but you should at least pop out when you feel safe. Dipper and Mabel would want you to.”

I scratched him around the ears; he seemed to be more at ease but I could still see the uncertainty.

He groaned tiredly, resting back on the floor, I stroked the back of his neck, whispering.

“Stan, it’s alright. Just relax, hate yourself all you want. I’m not going to take the kids away from you. You’re aware enough to know if something’s wrong with your form.”

The wolf growled with a slight whine.

“You’re going to have to tell them what’s been going on you know. Explain yourself to them, they’ll understand. I promise they won’t be afraid.”

He only answered with a whine, he’s uneasy still, but I was positive he would confess to bring peace between them.

Not too far from us were a pair of curious glowing eyes in the darkness, I smiled and told Dipper it’s safe for them to approach Stanley. He must have snuck in some point after taming Stan.

He barked for his sister and she came running down stairs. Stan went quiet when Mabel approached him, regretful for harshly yelling at them. She met him with affection, hugging his face and petting him with the largest smile, burying her face on top of his head.

Stanley snarled softly, speaking.

They knew Stan acted aggressive out of fear; they expressed their frustration on why he had to act like that; there was no need to lash out at the twins.

He finally explained why he was acting so strangely, both were sympathetic but wondered why hide the truth from them. They gave him quite the earful; they trusted him and would help him no matter what happened and yet Stanley decided to make things more difficult. He appeared slightly annoyed being scolded like a child by his own kids.

The werewolf Stan quietly answered; he hid the fact for that reason as well. If he told them, they would either see him as a dangerous monster and if (obviously) not; they would try to help him, and still hurt them as they try.

I could only listen to Mabel’s words; I was in the dark for most of this conversation and had to patiently wait for her translation; which took a while.

Apologizes were exchanged, most from Stan himself.

Mabel told him kindly they love him very much, she never saw him as a beast during their argument, just a grump. She was afraid, but only for him; he apologized for making her cry and acting stupid (I’m suspicious of this detail because I’m not yet sure if Stan admitted it or it was an addition by Mabel.)

Regardless, he nuzzled the both of them and gently wrapped them in his arms, safe, unharmed. Mabel looked like she was falling asleep in his embrace.

The beastly werewolf smiling, soothed.

Back to the present, I’m currently resting in my room; my cut is patched up, hopefully I can move better in the morning. My brother is lying beside me, still awake.

Mabel is sleeping peacefully with her head resting against his shaggy body. Her arms around Dipper’s neck, clutching him closely like a stuffed animal. The wolf boy resting his head on her lap; his body curled around her left side. He rubbed his snout against her a few times and occasionally looks over to me.

The two werewolves are currently communicating with each other, with barks, growls and whines. I wish I understood what they were saying, seems like quite the conversation. Dipper is noticeably quieter than Stanley; I guess he doesn’t want to wake his sister.

I’ve have an update! Mabel wasn’t sleeping as I thought, just happy where she is. The two were talking about their curse and having a heart to heart. Stanley was telling Dipper how he fear he might lose control while saving them. He brought up the theory of self-control while saying unflattering things about himself and Dipper told him he wasn’t bad enough. Dipper did not know how to answer the rescue-turn-danger possibility but he believes the focus on the rescue would prevent it…at least he hopes judging by his worried expression he gave when Mabel told me. Then went on a detailed retelling of last night. They moved to a lighter subject and are enjoying themselves as of now.

Wait a minute, is Stanley sharing something embarrassing about me? He keeps giving me that look and Mabel never said what it was.

Is it something from my childhood or those last few nights?

He’s doing this on purpose, he definitely is!

Stan is still nervous as of writing this, but I’m sure he’ll heal over time or not, I just wish for him to know his better qualities prevent him from hurting those around him. He can’t see it, or maybe he doesn’t believe he’s deserving of it and he’s only fooling himself. You don’t have to worry Stanley, as long as you’re you, you won’t lose them, and your temper won’t stop you. You may lack faith, but actions speak louder than words; and your actions at this time show you’re willing to sleep by them despite the worry.

You’re not as bad as you believe; the kids will always show you that, all of them.

Speaking of, I should probably tell Soos he can come out of the kid’s room now; he’s been there for a few hours. I honestly forgot about that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These fics were for an Artist who does Lovely art Commissions for in 2018!
> 
> Check her out!
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/mistrel-fox

**Author's Note:**

> These were originally posted in may 2018! enjoy! These were experimental and please excuse errors.


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